Silent Night
by TitansRule
Summary: Jess's case brings back memories in more ways than one and Don's case forces her to take a big risk to help him out. Story #13 my 'Kindred Spirits' series.


**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: NY. I do own Jamie, Elle, Jason, Liam and Mya Angell.  
Series: 'Kindred Spirits' - there's a full list on my profile.  
Spoilers: _Silent Night_; dialogue in bold came straight from the episode, except I added Jess to the scenes, since she wasn't in this one.**

* * *

Silent Night

As crime scenes went, it was fairly routine, but Jess has long-since decided to live by the rule that there was no such thing as a routine crime scene.

"Sad." Danny commented with a sigh. "This girl had her whole life ahead of her." He glanced up as footsteps alerted them. "**What happened? I thought you were at the Riverdale scene?**"

"**I lost the toss.**" Stella told them, setting her kit down. "**Had to come back in the city. Who's this?**"

"**Mackenzie Wade, 16 years old.**" Jess informed her. "**She's in town for the ice-skating regionals. Looks like a gunshot wound to the stomach.**"

Stella lifted the girl's jacket to check and then helped Danny roll her over. "**No exit wound; so the bullet must still be inside her.**" She glanced behind them, shining her flashlight over the ground. "**Check out these scratches; possible drag marks.**"

Danny straightened up. "**So she was shot out on the ice.**"

Stella pulled a face. "**This is a huge complex. Bowling, rock-climbing, golf … anyone could've come in here.**"

Jess nodded. "**Except since the competition, the practice rink's been on lock-down; skaters and coaches only.**"

"**Who found her?**"

"**Krista Palmer.**" Danny answered. "**Apparently she's a hotshot in the skating world.**"

"She is." Jess confirmed.

"You follow it?" Stella asked, sounding surprised.

Jess shrugged. "When it's on. One of the few things my mom taught me that I actually enjoyed."

"You skate?" Danny guessed.

Jess shrugged again. "A little."

She regretted it immediately when a smirk lit up on his face. "In that case, Detective Angell, you can search the ice." He handed her a pair of skates.

"I'm not a CSI." Jess reminded him, slipping her shoes off regardless.

"Just stick markers down to save us traipsing everywhere." Stella smiled. "Please."

"Haven't done this in years." Jess commented, lacing the skates up. "Let's hope it's like riding a bicycle."

Danny helped her to her feet and she hobbled to the edge of the ice, stepping out tentatively.

But she was right. Years of practice came floating back to her, remembering afternoons when her brothers were either at sports practice or college and her parents had finally been able to focus all their attention on her.

She skated out to the middle of the rink, her eyes scanning the ice for any signs of a struggle, but she half-expected to see her mother skate in front of her and take her hands like she was a little girl again, pulling her along simply because she could, and then hear her dad's voice from the bleachers.

"_Jessie's a big girl, Marie; she can do it herself by now."_

A scratch in the ice caught her eye and she skidded to a halt. "Hey, this is weird."

"No, what's weird is that you call that 'a little'." Danny called.

Jess rolled her eyes. "There are scratches in the ice."

"Angell, there'd be scratches all over the ice." Stella pointed out, reappearing from the changing rooms. "There's a possibility Mackenzie wasn't our target; she and Krista switched practice slots, they were the only two who knew about it and they were wearing matching sweatshirts."

"Not these kinds of scratches, Stella." Jess shook her head. "There's nothing out here and the ice is too smooth. Someone went over it with an ice-resurfacer."

"Danny, take that thing apart; see if there's anything in the vacuum." Stella instructed. "Maybe someone skated afterwards, before Krista found Mackenzie."

"I don't think so." Jess said, crouching down for a better look. "These weren't made from skating; they're too deep and too specific. It's an arrow and what looks like the letter I, gouged into the ice. And they're stained red. Could be blood."

Stella grabbed her camera and carefully stepped out onto the ice. Jess placed a marker and ruler next to the scratches, before straightening up and fishing her cell-phone from her pocket. "Angell."

"_Hey, it's Flack; where are you?"_

"Crime scene." Jess answered. "What's up?"

"She's skating!" Danny called over. "She'll call you back."

"Shut it, Messer." Jess called back. "Sorry, Flack."

"_Skating?" _Don repeated, sounding amused.

"Our vic was killed on an ice rink." Jess told him. "Did you need something?"

"_Yeah, do you know sign language?"_

"No, sorry." Jess frowned. "I think I heard one of the unis saying his sister was deaf the other day though … erm, Erickson I think his name is. He might know it."

"_Thanks, Jess."_

Jess hung up and put her phone away. "The victim was deaf?"

"So were her parents." Stella nodded, photographing the scratch-marks. "You're right; these are pretty specific. Any idea what they mean?"

"Well, I only ever skated with my parents." Jess shrugged. "You might want to ask Krista if she knows." Seeing that Stella looked curious, she elaborated, "Some trainers and skaters have formulas for different moves or jumps. Etching it into the ice is extreme, but I suppose it's plausible."

"Why's it extreme?" Stella asked. "Run over it with the resurfacer enough times and it would be cleared and this is only the practice rink."

"Because skaters are supposed to look up at the audience when they skate; if they practice looking down at the rink, they will when they perform." Jess explained.

"But if a skater keeps getting something wrong, a coach might resort to etching the formula on the ice." Stella theorised. "And is she _keeps_ getting it wrong, they might get angry."

"Angry enough to shoot her?" Jess raised an eyebrow. "Now _that's_ an extreme reaction."

"Speaking of extreme reactions," Stella glanced over to make sure Danny was occupied; he was, "do you know what's going on with Lindsay?"

Jess looked up at that. "Why? What happened?"

"She and Hawkes turned up at the crime scene; she took one look at the victim's mother and baby sister and took off again in the Avalanche." Stella frowned.

"Well, she told me and Danny she couldn't handle mothers when we had the Suicide Girls case." Jess remembered. "And she said something to Danny about sorting some things through that she thought she'd put behind her."

"You think something happened in Montana?" Stella asked quietly.

"Yeah." Jess sighed. "I mean, I thought it was something to do with a bad relationship, but I'm starting to think maybe that's wishful thinking."

* * *

"Anything on the fan-mail?" Stella asked.

"I'm still looking." Jess told her as the two women slipped through the door one of the lab techs held for them. "Thanks. So far, nothing that screams 'I'm gonna follow you to practice and shoot you'."

As they approached Autopsy, Jess slowed until she was standing outside. "I'll wait out here."

Stella frowned. "You've been in autopsy before."

"Never when a body was out or post was going on. I've only done that once; when I absolutely had to." Jess corrected. "Part of detective training. If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to wait out here."

"Sure." Stella nodded. "I'll fill you in."

"Thanks." Jess smiled weakly and leaned against the wall with a sigh. She knew she was being silly, but it wasn't a fear she held; just a severe dislike.

Jess didn't have to wait long before the door opened again, but it was Lindsay who dashed out, not Stella. She didn't think twice before following the CSI to the locker room, where she found her slumped on the ground in front of her locker, her head in her hands. "Linds?"

"I'm fine." Lindsay whispered, but her voice shook and they both knew it was a lie.

Sliding down the lockers to sit beside her, Jess wrapped an arm around her, pulling her sideways so her head rested on her shoulder.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, before Lindsay let out a little sniffle. "Why'd you hate the morgue?"

"It's not the morgue." Jess admitted. "When you get murdered, you get screwed twice. Someone takes your life and then we come along and take your dignity. I just figure the less people who see them like that, the better." She shook her head. "You know, if I'm every killed in the line duty, I don't want an autopsy unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Define 'absolutely necessary'." Lindsay told her.

Jess glanced at her, seeing that her eyes were still wet with unshed tears, but her voice was calm again. "If I suddenly drop dead in the middle of the precinct. No one knows how I died; then you can do an autopsy. If I'm shot, it's obvious what killed me; it's unnecessary." She tilted her head. "Now what's up with you?"

Lindsay hesitated, then shook her head. "I can't. I need to handle this by myself."

"But you're not, Lindsay." Jess pointed out gently. "You left the crime scene this morning; you just ran out of autopsy. You're not handling it. And you don't have to; you've got us."

Again, Lindsay hesitated, but, again, she shook her head. "No. Thanks, Angell, but I got this."

Jess sighed. "Alright. Just remember, if you need anything, I'm here, okay? Any time, day or night; all you need to do is pick up the phone."

* * *

Her plan had been to go home, have a long hot bath and order in, but that had been shot to hell when her journey home had been blocked by police cruisers.

Pulling over, Jess grabbed her badge and got out, flashing it at the nearest officer to get some information.

"Kidnapping." She was informed. "Baby daughter of an earlier vic."

"Detective?" Jess prompted.

"Flack." The uniform nodded towards her partner, who was talking to another officer and a civilian.

"**Alright, listen up, our shooter's got two hostages; he's already killed one girl.**" Don was saying as she neared them. "**We can't afford to make any mistakes. What's that?**" He added as a small plastic device towards them came flying towards them

"**An external transmitter.**" The officer told him. "**Cole can't hear without it.**"

"**I got an idea.**" Don stated. "Find out where Angell is."

"I'm here." Jess told him, jogging over.

Don raised an eyebrow. "That's impressive. _I_ didn't know I needed you until a second ago."

"You always need me." Jess rolled her eyes. "And I couldn't get home. What's up?"

"Follow me." Don took off round the back of the cruisers and she tagged along, until an SUV came into view.

A terrified looking blonde woman was seated in the driver's seat, apparently torn between keeping her gaze fixed on an armed man in the back and reaching for the crying baby in the car seat.

"Why am I here?" Jess hissed.

"Because I need someone to hand the baby off to." Don whispered back. "Assuming we can get her out of there."

"So because I'm a woman." Jess rolled her eyes. "Wonderful."

"Jess, I don't do babies." Don told her. "And you're my partner; I need someone I can trust not to do anything stupid."

"Fine." Jess conceded, staying where she was while Don began moving towards the SUV.

She probably shouldn't be there, she realised. This was a hostage situation and tactical training was needed to deal with it; training she didn't have.

Without moving her eyes from her partner – and mentally chiding herself that now was _not_ the time to notice how good his ass looked in jeans (it was just her luck that this would all come to a head when he'd taken the opportunity to dash home for something to eat and a quick shower, meaning that when the call came in he'd had to throw on the first thing to hand; she had a perfect view and no time to enjoy it) – Jess prayed that this would end well, because she wasn't sure how to explain this to the captain.

If she was going to be perfectly honest with herself, she didn't want to have to tell Don that little fact either; it had never come up and she'd been expecting a little more time to tell him if and when the situation did arise, but she knew he wouldn't blame her for not telling him. He would, however, blame himself for putting her in that position and that was the last thing she wanted.

She watched anxiously, as Mac talked to the gunman, his hostage occasionally signing something in translation.

"Come on …" She murmured, watching Don open the car door. She knew Cole couldn't hear what he was doing, but he could still feel it and he did have a gun. Automatically her own hand drifted to her piece, as her heart thudded so loudly she was sure her colleagues could hear it. She didn't have a shot; she knew she didn't.

Quickly but carefully, Don undid the seat belt and lifted baby Elizabeth out of the car-seat before sprinting back to her.

Jess took the baby from him as she began crying and tried soothing her, but three children in the family and one on the way didn't prepare her for how to calm a baby who couldn't hear her. She paid little attention to Don pulling his gun and pushing her behind him, ready if Cole took a shot, focusing instead on the child in her arms.

"It's okay." She cooed, knowing it was pointless, but following her instincts. "It's okay." Instinctively, she shifted Elizabeth so her head was resting against her chest and she could feel the vibrations of Jess's voice as well as her heart beat. "It's alright."

Don caught her eye and nodded, and she made her way back around the squad cars to where Elizabeth's grandparents – and now parents, she supposed – were waiting.

Gina took Elizabeth with a sob, signing something with her free hand.

"Thank you." The officer with them translated.

"You're welcome." Jess said clearly, so both could read her lips rather than need sign language. "She's a beautiful baby."

The couple beamed with pride and she excused herself, heading back over to Don. "Hey."

"Hey." Don smiled weakly, looking exhausted. "Thanks for the help."

"Don't mention it." Jess told him, praying he wouldn't. There was something about his eyes that told her she wouldn't be able to lie to him; even if she thought he'd believe her, she could almost picture how disappointed he'd look if he ever found out.

He _had_ to be amazing at guilt trips; she was already feeling guilty about lying to him and she hadn't technically lied yet.

Unless withholding information was lying, which, she had a sinking feeling, it was.

So Jess took the only way out; before Don could check that she had been qualified to be involved (and she knew she wouldn't be in the report because she hadn't actually done anything) she told him she was waiting for an important phone call and had to get home.

Don just nodded, turning back to deal with the swarm of uniformed and SWAT officers on scene.

Now the road had been cleared, Jess got home fairly quickly and, within twenty minutes, she was walking into her dark apartment. Hanging her jacket up and kicking her shoes off, she took the opportunity to take down the Christmas cards that stood on her mantelpiece, the only indication of the holiday two weeks ago; she was never in her apartment, so didn't the see the point in decorating.

Most of them, she threw away, but she saved a few and took them into her bedroom, flicking through them one last time.

Three were home-made, with the tell-tale signs of children's ages. The first was neat with careful handwriting reading _Dear Aunt Jess, Merry Christmas, with love from Jason_, showcasing her ten-year-old nephew who just wanted to be treated like an adult (or, at the very least, a teenager).

The second, from his five-year-old brother, was typical of a boy who'd just started school and wanted to show his favourite aunt everything he'd learnt; a messier, but still carefully made card that read, _Dear Auntie Jess, Have a very, very merry crismas, lots and lots and lots of love from Liam._

The last was simply white card with a picture on the front and the writing inside was their mother's rather than their two-year-old sister: _Dear Auntie Jess, Merry Christmas, love Mya._

Jess smiled fondly and placed them into the bottom drawer of her side table. Then her fingers hovered over the last card she'd kept back, hesitant.

This one wasn't hand-made, but that wasn't what made her reluctant to throw it away. She opened it and traced a finger over the lettering, a soft smile appearing on her face.

_Dear Jess, Merry Christmas to the best partner I've ever had. Love from Don._

Her phone rang in the living room and she hesitated for just a second more, before slipping the card in with the others and hurrying out again.

"Detective Angell?"

"_Honestly, Jessica, you're just like your father." _Her mother chided. _"Did you forget how to answer a phone when you joined the Academy?"_

Jess smiled. "Sorry, Mom; force of habit. I only just got in. The boys all go home?"

"_Yes, dear, and they all got home safely." _Marie assured her.

"Good. That's good." Jess dropped onto her couch, running a hand through her hair. Her brothers had an annoying habit of never calling, so whenever they left their parents after family gatherings, her parents made a point of calling her to let her know they'd all gotten home alright, especially Jamie, Elle and the kids, who lived out in California.

"_Jessie?"_ Marie prompted.

Jess pulled herself out of her thoughts. "Sorry, Mom; I was miles away. Listen, I've got the weekend off. Do you wanna go ice-skating?"

**

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AN: I know, I took a few liberties with this ep, but I don't really have a problem with it. Also, I've sort of made up my own timeline for when the episodes took place (I kind of had to after I set 'Kindred Spirits' a month after **_**Pay Up**_** and in November). As I remember the ep after this one **_**Obsession**_** was set in the snow, so it must've been winter. So this one's set mid-January, hence the Christmas cards. Right, I think that's my ultimately pointless AN done, please review!**


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